


Bring Him Home

by wewriteletters



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Father Figures, Found Family, Gen, Grief, Hospitalization, Hurt/Comfort, Malcolm Bright Needs a Hug, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Other additional characters to be added, Past Character Death, Past Suicide Attempt, Prayer, Stabbing, Whump, two whump fics in a row oh malcolm we're really in it now
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:13:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21927244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wewriteletters/pseuds/wewriteletters
Summary: Malcolm is stabbed while pursuing a suspect and Gil tries desperately to keep him alive.
Relationships: Gil Arroyo & Malcolm Bright
Comments: 65
Kudos: 185





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is brought to you by [this](https://malcolmwhumply.tumblr.com/post/189586194690/umm-i-desperately-need-a-fic-of-malcolm-bleeding#notes) Tumblr post, the song Bring Him Home from Les Mis (aka the best song to cry about found father-son relationships to) and the fact that I recently auditioned for Julius Caesar...I swear it was originally just one stab wound, sorry Malcolm. 
> 
> Yet another near death Malcolm fic because it's too fun to put him in pain and his relationship with Gil means the world to me. I wasn't sure if the violence in this fic crossed into "graphic"; I decided not to tag it as such because it's an event that could occur within the show and its TV-14 rating, but keep in mind there is a lot of talk of blood and if any of you think I need to tag it as graphic or change the rating please let me know. Also I'm going to apologize right now for how convoluted and dumb the case they're working on is; I swear I tried to come up with a better one before deciding it was above my paygrade and I just wanted to jump in to the Angst. I'm not sure where I want to go with this story but I'm guessing they'll be at least one more chapter so I'm leaving it open. Enjoy!

Gil didn’t see it happen.

Long after the event occurred, Gil would regret that he hadn’t been there in those moments. He would hold on to that guilt for the rest of his life. Even if he couldn’t have stopped the attack, he at least could have kept Malcolm from getting hurt. He could have pushed the kid back, sandwiched himself between him and the perp. He didn’t care if he died right on the spot if it meant Malcolm was safe.

But he hadn’t even seen it happen. How many times had he scolded the kid never to wander off all alone, and the one time he actually called Gil before he went and followed a lead, this had happened. Bringing Malcolm on as a consultant meant balancing his feelings for the kid as his family with the dangers he knew were just a part of the job. Jessica had accused him of only bringing Malcolm on to solve the copy cat case, but she didn’t realize how he had spent every night after hearing he was back in New York City agonizing over asking him to help with the investigation. It wasn’t just opening old wounds regarding his father, though that was certainly a large part of it, it was also how much physical danger the kid would be exposed to. 

Logically he knew Malcolm was capable of handling himself, he was an FBI agent for nearly ten years for God’s sake, but he still couldn’t help worrying about him every time he was brought in to consult. Gil reasoned with himself that this was the safest place Malcolm could be; he was never going to stop trying to catch killers and at least now he would be there to protect him.

But Gil had failed him.

They had been working on a case, a seemingly random knife attack in central park that left two people dead. Normally that would fall to homicide, but after hearing about it from Gil, Malcolm had ran (literally, he made JT drop his bagel) to the evidence room where they kept the files of ongoing cases and started pulling out papers from seemingly random boxes like he was weeding a garden. Dani started scolding Malcolm for making a mess but before she could finish her sentence he stopped abruptly and turned to the three of them, squeezing a stack of files he had gathered in his hands in front of him. He looked like he had as a teenager when he came over to Gil’s house to excitedly show off a good grade he got on a test.

Whenever Malcolm wasn’t actively working a case, he would look through NYPD unsolved homicides, trying to see if he could pick up on anything the initial investigation had missed. Gil didn’t really like the habit, the kid already had enough murder on his mind, but it had proved useful in this case. Malcolm immediately made a connection between the stabbing in the park and three other unsolved knife attacks that had occurred throughout Manhattan over the last six months. He quickly explained how the stab patterns were all the same, how the killer attacked at the same time at night, and what was clearly becoming a working profile of the suspects psyche.

Gil and his team took over the case afterwards, going off Malcolm’s theory that this was a serial killer rather than a string of similar, but unrelated, attacks. Unfortunately, whoever was doing this was picking targets at random so there was not much to go on. After two weeks of work, and another knife attack, this time in Hell’s Kitchen, the only thing they had to show for it was one suspect; a 30 year old man who had been spotted at the scene of the Central Park attack. Unfortunately, his girlfriend provided an alibi for the other nights, and with no physical evidence linking him to the crime, there wasn’t much to go on. Gil was beginning to think Malcolm might be grasping at straws, but he was insistent that the attacks were all committed by the same person. 

And that was how Gil had found himself and Malcolm combing the streets of Manhattan at 3 am. They had been doing an impromptu stake out; Malcolm had called him at midnight, talking a mile a minute about how he was convinced the one suspect that they had so far was the perpetrator and judging by patterns in the cases he was going to attack again tonight. Gil was on his way to Malcolm’s apartment before he was even fully awake; he knew the kid wouldn’t give up on the lead and he’d be damned if let him go off on his own. 

When he arrived, he found Malcolm at his desk, case files and half filled notebooks covering the surface like dead leaves on the pavement. He was clearly in a manic state, ripping out pages from the notebooks and scribbling down words on them only to stop mid sentence and toss the page aside to pick up a crime scene photo that was already worn on the edges. All Gil wanted to do was force the kid to get some rest, but the second Malcolm saw him, he was rushing up to grab his coat, picking right up where he left off on the phone call, explaining that they had to leave now because all the other attacks had taken place in the middle of the night and the attacks were getting closer together by date. Gil wasn’t about to drive Malcolm all over the city on a barely supported hunch, but he agreed to sit with him outside the suspects home to make sure he didn’t leave. 

Unfortunately, for Gil’s sake at least, Malcolm had been right; after an hour of waiting in the car with an increasingly impatient Malcolm, Gil saw the door to the suspects townhouse open and the man walked down the steps and into the alley. He had barely rounded the corner before Malcolm was rushing out of the car, forcing Gil to follow, as he whisper-shouted “Bright, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

He managed to catch up to Malcolm, but he couldn’t get the kid to stop the pursuit, so he resigned himself to just follow him as closely as he could. The suspect walked quickly, leading the two men through a maze of nearly abandoned streets and alleyways until finally disappearing behind a building. By the time they got around the building themselves, he was gone. Malcolm became even more on edge, bouncing on his feet in frustration as he surveyed the area. 

“Where did he go? He can’t just...disappear like that, he has to be here!”

“Kid, it’s getting late. I know you’re convinced but...you know there’s not much evidence even tying the man to this case? I’ll call the station and get someone to keep watching the house, but we can’t just always go off on your hunches.”

This statement just upset Malcolm more. He didn’t even respond to Gil, he just continued walking down the alleyway, convinced he would find something. 

Gil knew he should have followed him, but he was exhausted and a bit annoyed with Malcolm for never listening. He knew how invested the kid got with cases and how hard it was to convince him he was wrong, but if he wanted to have any kind of stable career with the NYPD, he needed to learn when to back down. Gil never should have indulged this idea, he should have forced Malcolm to go to bed back at the apartment. Now all he could do was lean against the building and wait for Malcolm to come back. He’d give him a few minutes to realize he wasn’t gonna find the guy and if he wasn’t back by then, he’d go find him himself. The kid needed to learn when to cut his loses. 

But then he heard Malcolm screaming. 

Gil was no stranger to the sound; between night terrors, panic attacks, flashbacks, he had heard some truly horrifying noises come out of the kid, but somehow these screams were worse than any others he had heard before. They were so raw, so primal, the screams of pure agony and pain. Gil immediately ran towards them, acting solely on instinct alone. He didn't have a chance to process what the screams could actually mean, just that he had to get to Malcolm and he had to get there fast. 

The suspect was gone by the time Gil got to Malcolm. Or maybe he wasn’t. Maybe he was still lurking in the shadows, ready to attack Gil as well. The thought didn’t cross the seasoned lieutenants mind; all he could focus on was Malcolm. He didn’t care about clearing the scene, or going after the perpetrator, or calling for backup. He just needed to be with Malcolm.

Malcolm was lying on the ground. Blood was everywhere. Gil had seen a good deal of stabbings and shootings over his nearly forty year career, but nothing could have prepared him for this. Malcolm’s entire chest and stomach were already drenched with blood, pouring out of two visible wounds, but Gil wouldn’t be shocked if there were more he just couldn’t see. His right forearm was gushing blood as well, the wound was deep and seemed to go straight through. He guessed Malcom had instinctively raised his arm to protect himself from the stabbing but he just ended up with a blade in one more part of his body. There was a huge gash on his left cheek, stretching from just under his eye all the way down to his chin. Malcolm’s eyes were shut, but he was clearly still awake and aware; they were closed so tightly it was like he thought if he squeezed hard enough, when he opened them again, the pain would be gone. Tears were already soaking his face, turning the blood on his cheek a more pinkish color as it dripped off his skin. 

How long had it taken Gil to get to him? How could the suspect have done this much damage in so short a time? He had just been around the corner! Gil tried to focus, but guilt was already flowing through his veins; why did he leave Malcolm alone for even a second?

A brief moment of clarity allowed Gil to detach enough to complete two tasks. First, he took off his jacket and covered Malcolm’s torso with it, using one hand to put pressure on the abdominal wound, since the one to his chest looked like it was far enough down to have missed his lungs and heart, and he could see most of the blood was coming from Malcolm’s stomach. He pushed down hard, knowing he needed to stop at least some of the bleeding if the kid had a chance in hell of survival. Malcolm began screaming again at the pressure, his head suddenly jerking up, causing the wound on his cheek to bleed even more. Gil would have tried to get him to hold still, but he had to focus on the second task; getting medical help. Using the hand that wasn’t pressed against Malcolm’s pulsating abdomen, Gil sent a text to Dani with their location and a message to call for EMS. Gil knew she would still be up working like Malcolm had been and would immediately comply, but in the moment he didn’t even worry about whether or not he should have called 911 himself, just in case. They’d want him to stay on the line but he needed to keep his focus on Malcolm. Maybe it was a selfish choice, a dangerous choice, but he didn’t have the mental capacity to think it through any further. The second he hit “send,” the phone dropped to the ground and his mind went solely to holding on to Malcolm.

Malcolm, who was dying, right in front of him. Malcolm who looked terrified, more terrified than Gil had ever seen him before. Malcolm, who was always full of so much life, even when he was clearly so sad and broken and scared he was always so full of life. 

But it didn’t seem that way now. 

Gil threw all the medical training he had learned in his career out the window as he pulled Malcolm up by the shoulders until he was practically laying in the older man's lap. He wasn’t thinking about aggravating internal injuries further or even the pain moving would cause the kid, he just wanted him to be closer. He put Malcolm’s head over the arm that wasn’t putting pressure on his abdomen, trying to keep it up so he could hopefully breathe easier. 

“Bright, it’s okay, I’m right here and help is on the way.” Gil managed to choke the words out, doing his damned best to keep himself from falling apart. 

“He-he...Gil no, he went...t-t-to the left...down …” Whatever Malcolm was trying to tell him was cut off by a horrific coughing sound. It wasn’t even coughing really, more like choking. Gil flinched as he heard a ripping sound come from Malcolm and suddenly blood was pouring out of his mouth, mixing with the blood already covering his face from the wound on his cheek. Malcolm kept hacking, despite the pain he was clearly in. The first few coughs were so forceful, blood splattered across Gil’s face; if he hadn’t been so focused on a million other things, that might have caused him to faint on the spot. Malcolm attempted to take a breath, but it just caused his tortured throat to spasm more. Despite all of this, Gil felt the boy squirm in his arms, trying to get up. He let out another cry and made a gagging sound, the movement only making the tears fall faster. “Gonna-come back...gotta get away.” 

“Bright-Bright...Malcolm, stop moving. Stop talking, I promise you’re safe but you have to stop moving.” Gil knew he was lying. Neither of them were safe with a knife wielding maniac somewhere in the vicinity, but he’d be damned if what could be Malcolm’s last few moments on earth were filled with terror. “Just try to breath kid, I know it’s hard but you need to keep breathing.”

Gil felt Malcolm’s left hand make its way over to his shirt. Malcolm pawed at the fabric, until he was able to get a hold of it. He squeezed it tightly, as if it was the tether keeping him on this world. The fear in his eyes became more intense, as his grip on Gil’s shirt tightened even further, Malcolm putting all of what little energy he had into the motion. “Don’t...wanna die...please don’t-I’m sorry...should have stayed.” The words were soft and accented by the choking noise still emanating from his throat. 

“Don’t apologize kid, you didn’t do anything wrong. And you’re not going to die, I’m not gonna let you.” Gil tried to keep his voice from quivering on the last few words. He wished he had that power, but he knew he didn’t. All he could focus on was what he could actually do; try and stop the bleeding, and comfort the terrified boy laying in his arms. 

Gil maneuvered his knee so he could still keep Malcolm’s head propped up as he brought his hand up to Malcolm’s right cheek, the one without the gash, and tried to rub his thumb over it in comforting circles. The movement made Malcolm wince at first, but soon he leaned in to the gesture, his eyes closing and a look of peace overtaking his expression for a moment. Gil balked; somehow seeing Malcolm at ease was worse than watching him struggle, scared and in pain. If he was calming down it meant he wasn’t feeling the pain anymore. It meant he was letting go. Gil suddenly found himself torn between wanting to provide comfort in what could very well be the last time he ever spoke to Malcolm, and wanting to scream at him and slap his face just to keep him awake. 

“Stay with me Bright. Just keep your eyes open and keep breathing. That’s all you have to do. I know it hurts, but you have to do it.” Gil’s voice was becoming increasingly choked up. He prided himself in his ability to remain stoic even in the face of great pain. It was a requirement of the job; you couldn’t have the lieutenant breaking down in sobs at every crime scene. He remembered how Jackie had told him when he first met Malcolm that the boy was one of the only people she had seen who could actually get him to let his guard down. The Whitly case had been the first one to truly haunt him. It was the first one he cried over and he had shed his fair share of tears, often times happy ones, because of Malcolm. But still, he tried not to let his feelings for the kid overwhelm him, at least not often; he remembered Malcolm admitting, while high, how much he loved and admired him, and he hadn’t even flinched. He had just been so angry at him and Dani for disobeying orders, for nearly dying and then shrugging it off like it was nothing. It was so much easier to be angry at him then be forced to confront the barrage of intense emotions he felt for the kid. 

Gil continued to press his coat against the wound in Malcolm’s stomach, the kid becoming too out of it to even whimper at the pressure. His eyes had opened again, but Gil wasn’t sure how much he was actually seeing. Blood was still pouring from his mouth, but Malcolm didn’t react to that either. Gil knew it was bad; Malcolm probably wouldn’t even succumb to his internal injuries, blood loss would kill him first. There was so much of it everywhere, covering Malcolm’s clothing, his hair, his face and neck. Gil knew it was soaking through his own clothes as he held Malcolm, but he didn’t feel it. The kid- and that's really how he really looked now, so young, much too young to die, especially like this- in his arms only reacted to Gil when he spoke. 

“That’s good, Bright, just keep your eyes open. Help will be here soon.”

“Gil…” Malcolm hummed the word, barely being able to force it out as another coughing fit overcame him and he struggled to breathe around it. Gil wanted to scream at him to stop talking, stop wasting his energy and just focus on staying alive, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. “I meant it...Dani, she-she told me what I said...you did fill the void...taught me...what a good man is...” 

Malcolm was smiling, clearly proud of himself for being able to even get the words out. God even bleeding to death the kid was just determined not to listen to him. If he had been more aware, Gil knew his small speech would have been followed with a joking “can’t believe the only times I ever open up are when I’m high or dying!”

“I know you did, Malcolm. You filled a void for me too. And for Jackie…” The thought of his deceased wife only made Gil come all the more closer to just breaking down in tears. It wasn’t fair. Why was it always someone else, why was it never him? He was a cop, he was the one who was supposed to be in danger. His wife wasn’t supposed to die because some drunk ran a red light and his...his son wasn’t supposed to die because he had been too selfish and stubborn to keep him safe. He would give his own life in an instant if it meant saving Malcolm. Why hadn’t he been the one the suspect attacked? Why had he gone after Malcolm? Why couldn’t it have been him instead?

Gil found himself praying, begging God to save Malcolm. It was the same prayer he had whispered over Jackie’s bedside, before finally telling the doctors they could terminate life support. Before he realized there was no hope left. Malcolm had been with him then; he had flown in from DC that morning, exhausted from the plane ride and horrified by the situation he found himself in, but he still sat with Gil as he sobbed, watching Jackie’s heart finally go silent. 

Malcolm was all he had left. He couldn’t die. Gil struggled to keep his voice even as he continued; “She loved you so much. She still loves you, I know she’s watching over you, protecting you. And that’s how I know you’re going to be okay.”

Malcolm shook his head, but he didn’t reply. Gil didn’t know if it was just at the point where he physically couldn’t speak or if he just didn’t have the words. Gil found himself continuing, trying to fill the silence that was now only interrupted by blood dripping on the pavement and Malcolm’s occasional whimper. “Actually, you filled two voids. You filled another after she was gone. You saved my life twice Malcolm.”

Gil hated that this all felt like a deathbed confession and he hated that he wasn’t the one on the deathbed even more. He pulled Malcolm closer, doing his best to keep pressure on his abdomen. Malcolm’s head fell to the side, burying itself in the fabric of Gil’s shirt. Gil panicked for a second, thinking Malcolm had finally succumbed to his injuries. But then he heard a whisper; “That’s good...I love you.” 

The last three words were what finally made the tears that had been building up behind Gil’s eyes fall. He did his best to keep himself composed, if only because he needed to see that Malcolm was still breathing and he couldn’t do that if his vision was blurred with tears. But he couldn't hold on to that facade any longer. “I love you too...Just...hold on...please, I can’t lose you.” 

Malcolm didn’t respond and Gil found himself reaching for his neck for some proof that he was still alive. Malcolm’s pulse was weak, but it was still there, and he tried to hold on to the rhythm as his head bowed until he and Malcolm’s foreheads meet. 

“God, please don’t take him. Please don’t take him from me.” Malcolm’s blood was still pouring over Gil’s arm, the one that he was using to keep his jacket in place, and each breath took longer for him to get out than the last, but Gil held on to hope. Malcolm was strong, he was a fighter, he was going to survive this. He had too.

Gil stayed in that position, keeping himself as close to Malcolm as he could, whispering comforts and prayers and the simple phrase “I love you” over and over again as if his voice were the only thing keeping the boy alive. 

He had practically forgotten what he texted Dani. 

Until the sound of sirens began to intertwine themselves with Malcolm’s labored breathing. 

Gil couldn’t bring himself to look up, he couldn’t bring himself to be even an inch further from Malcolm. He was still whispering “I love you” when a paramedic pulled Malcolm from his arms and put him on a stretcher. He was still picturing a young Malcolm, so full of life, smiling at him after he told some stupid joke while being lead on to the ambulance. He was still crying when the heart monitor began beeping, sending him a reminder; Malcolm was still alive.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow thank you guys so much for the great response you gave chapter one! It's crazy to see people are actually excited to see what I write. This chapter gets into some medical talk so be aware of that; I apologize for any inaccuracies, I did do a pretty good amount of research, especially on the surgical procedure discussed, but I'm not a doctor or any kind of health care professional so I give myself basically as much leeway as I give any medical drama I watch lol. Hope you all enjoy, next chapter will be more plot heavy I promise.

“Police work is patience.” 

The words replayed in Gil’s mind. They were in Malcolm’s voice, in a mocking tone, as if he was repeating them sarcastically. For as much as Gil scolded Malcolm for his lack of patience, he was now beginning to see how horrible waiting with nothing occuring really was.

Police work isn’t patience. Waiting in a hospital ER for four hours with no information on your loved ones condition is patience. Agonizing, horrible, painful, patience. 

Riding with Malcolm in the ambulance was almost a worse experience than being with him after he was attacked. At least then Gil had been able to hold him, he could feel Malcolm breathing and his heart beating, he knew he was still alive as he tried desperately to comfort the terrified kid. In the ambulance the only way Gil knew he was still alive was the erratic beeping of the heart monitor, which felt too cold, too detached, to convince him that Malcolm hadn’t finally succumbed to his injuries. The paramedics wouldn’t even let him be near Malcolm, forcing him to sit in the far back corner on the bench so they had room to work. The only glimpse he got was when one of them moved away from the stretcher to grab something from one of the supply cupboards. Even though he was only able to see him for a few seconds at a time, Gil could still observe just how horrible Malcolm looked. 

They had covered the gash on his cheek with a gauze pad, but it was bleeding so much the bandage had turned almost completely red within a few minutes. Normally a wound like that would be too horrific to even look at, but when compared to how severe everything else was, it seemed like barely a scratch. They had bound his right arm tightly to try and control the bleeding, but Gil had noticed how purple Malcolm’s fingers were already turning and he couldn’t bring himself to dwell on the implications that may have. The paramedics were doing everything they could to stop the bleeding in his chest and abdomen, clearly the most pressing issue, but it seemed like a losing battle. 

After what felt like hours, they arrived at the hospital. Unsurprisingly, Gil wasn’t allowed to follow Malcolm past the opening of the ER, but that didn’t stop him from pulling out his badge and trying to use his best cop voice to insist he be able to remain with Malcolm. The fact that he was covered in blood and on the verge of tears did nothing to help his case; his request was denied and he was sent to go wash up and change into a pair of scrubs the hospital provided. 

After complying, mostly because he couldn’t bare feeling Malcolm’s blood against his skin any longer, Gil was led to the waiting room by a sympathetic looking nurse who promised she would update him when she could. As much as he wanted to try and fight with her, insist he be able to see Malcolm, he knew antagonizing the staff wasn’t going to do anything. So he forced himself to take a seat, only able to sit still when he shifted his focus to the next task he knew he needed to complete.

Gil had 120 text messages, 38 missed calls, and 12 voices mails. The majority of the notifications were from Dani. Gil hated to admit it, but he hadn’t even thought about how much stress he’d be causing her by telling her he needed EMS with no further details.

_I called them, they said they’ll be there in five minutes, what the hell is going on?_

_Gil you NEED to answer your phone...At least text me to let me know you’re okay._

_I swear I’m going to head over myself if you do not TELL ME WHAT IS HAPPENING!!!_

Gil winced, feeling horrible he had put her through all this. He couldn’t fault Dani for her reaction; if anything, she showed restraint. Gil knew if he received this kind of text from anyone on his team he would have driven down immediately to find them, dialing and redialing their number every step of the way. Dani was basically the reason Malcolm was even alive right now and he hadn’t even thought to send her a quick text in the ambulance letting her know what was happening. 

The rest of the messages were from JT; it was clear that Dani had let him know what was happening at some point. Most of the voicemails were him trying to keep his voice calm and respectful while basically saying “Gil...what the HELL man?”

 _Do you wanna tell my why Powell showed up banging on my door at 3 am?_

_Boss, I trust your decisions but you can’t leave us in the dark like this._

_We went to the location you sent Dani, one of the paramedics must have called the cops because the place was already full of unis when we arrived. Of course, they knew nothing besides the fact that it was a stabbing. If you don’t send us proof of life soon I think Dani is going to punch someone. Or I will. Probably both of us will._

Gil hadn’t even thought about the fact that Malcolm was now just going to become one more victim in this killers roster. Gil would have to give a witness statement and explain what the two of them were even doing that night to the chief of police. The thought alone almost made Gil throw his phone in frustration; he didn’t want to deal with anything that would keep him away from Malcolm. He pushed the cop side of his brain to the side, allowing himself to fall fully into the role of terrified father. He couldn’t focus on paperwork and internal review boards now. 

He knew Dani and JT deserved better, but he also knew he didn’t have the energy to speak to anyone without breaking down into incoherent sobs. So he sent them both a text message, telling them he was fine (physically at least) but Malcolm had been hurt and he was at the hospital right now. He promised to call when he could and provide them with updates, but that the two should go home and rest. Gil decided to spare the details, more for his sake than theirs; he didn’t want to type it all out. It would make it real. 

Seconds after the message went through, his phone was blowing up again. Dani and JT were both typing simultaneously, sending message after message as if they were trying to scream over each other. Gil forced himself to ignore it. He had another person to contact. And he knew this one would be even harder. 

He typed out a similar text message as the one he sent to JT and Dani, but in this one he included the name of the hospital and instructions to get there right away. Gil sent this one to Jessica and Ainsley. He knew Ainsley was Malcolm’s emergency contact and he hoped the hospital had gotten a hold of her already; they would be able to explain the situation calmly, something Gil had no hope of accomplishing. 

A few minutes later, Ainsley replied. Her message was short and to the point, letting him know she and her mom would be right over. He appreciated that she didn’t press for details. He wouldn’t even know how to begin. 

Afterwards, Gil set down his phone, trying to focus on anything other than the fear that was overwhelming him. Malcolm was somewhere in this building. Maybe he was fine; the doctors performed a miracle and he was stable somehow. Maybe he was up in the OR, struggling to stay alive, but still holding on. Maybe the doctors couldn’t save him and Malcolm’s body was already in the morgue.

That image- of Malcolm’s body, still, pale, cold- caused Gil to lurch forward and gag. The few people in the waiting all turned to look at him and just as quickly looked away. None of them wanted to see the pain the man was clearly in. Gil took some deep breaths and his hands began to shake like Malcolms. The thought was too horrifying, too vivid, he couldn’t dwell on it or he was going to pass out. None of this felt real anymore. It had to be a dream, there was no other explanation.

Gil buried his head in his hands, his breaths still coming out in hitches (like how Malcolm’s had as he lay bleeding out in his arms) and he did his best to think positively, as if that would have any impact on the situation. He quickly found himself praying again. Praying for Malcolm to live, to be okay. He would never ask for anything ever again if he was saved. Gil allowed himself to fully submit to prayer, focusing everything on it and letting himself feel, if even for a moment, that God was watching over Malcolm and would protect him. He would keep him safe when Gil hadn’t been able to. 

Jessica arrived less than an hour later, trailed by an exhausted Ainsley. She didn’t even stop to speak to Gil before she was rushing up to the receptionist and demanding to see her son. Like Gil, she argued when told that wasn’t a possibility at the moment, but she was clearly a lot more prepared for a fight. It didn’t take long before she started screaming just how much money her family charity donated to this hospital and if they wanted to get that new cancer wing funded they should treat her with some respect. Ainsley tried to calm her mother down, but Jessica didn’t stop making a scene until a nurse finally came over and promised to personally go check on the status of her son if she just sat down and waited for a moment. 

Jessica, her anger beginning to dissolve in to fear and sadness, nodded and, shooting a final glare at the receptionist, joined Gil in the waiting room. 

Despite the hell raised by Jessica, it was now going on the fourth hour and there had been no news. Ainsley managed to keep her mom from finding another person to scream at, but the three of them were all still feeling tense, frustrated, sad, and, above all, absolutely terrified. Gil had stepped away only once, to call Dani and tell her and JT that they still didn’t know how Malcolm was. They both wanted to come and wait with them, but Gil insisted they go home. He could barely deal with the looks on Jessica and Ainsley’s face, he knew seeing how scared Dani was would be too painful. Dani was like him in many ways; she didn’t let her emotions get the better of her and she always kept up her stoic and tough image. And she was tough, but she was also incredibly compassionate, and Gil knew not only how close she had gotten to Malcolm, but how much that meant for her, considering her own baggage and trauma. He promised that once they knew more, the two of them could both see Malcolm, and it seemed to satisfy them for the time being, but Dani still ended the call with a quiet “I know he’s gonna be okay, Gil. Malcolm’s a fighter.” It broke Gil’s heart that he was starting to think that might not mean much in the face of what had occurred.

After he returned to the waiting room, Jessica had spared him a tearful glance, but ducked away after barely a few seconds. Gil guessed he should consider himself lucky she hadn’t yelled at him that this was all his fault, at least not yet. Part of Gil kind of wished she would; it was the truth, and he deserved to be brought to task for getting Malcolm hurt. But in the moment, none of them were able to do anything except sit in heavy silence.

“No news is good news?” Ainsley finally mumbled, barely looking up. She said it as if it were a question, as if she wanted Gil or Jessica to agree so she could actually convince herself it was true. 

“Is that what they taught you at Columbia journalism school?” Jessica’s tone was bitter, but it was clearly hiding her fear. “Glad to see all the money I spent on tuition finally went to some use. I’m sure you know very well the difference between “no news” and “good news,” Ainsley.”

Ainsley sighed, not responding to Jessica’s comment. Gil looked at her apologetically. He knew how Jessica was feeling, but he couldn’t fault the young woman for trying to provide some optimism. He knew all he could think about at the moment were worst case scenarios. 

The three of them returned to silence. The waiting room was practically empty by now, as more and more people were called out by nurses or doctors. Each time, Gil noticed Jessica sit up a bit straighter, clearly thinking that someone was finally coming to tell them about Malcolm’s condition. But it was never their turn. 

Finally, around 7:30 am, a woman in light blue scrubs and a white coat stepped into the waiting room, carrying an iPad that she occasionally looked down at. Gil was ready to be disappointed again; there were still a few other people sitting around them and he assumed the woman was coming for one of them. But when she finally spoke up, it was to say, in a calm, neutral tone: “Family of Malcolm Bright?”

Gil had been waiting for hours to hear those words, but when they were finally spoken out loud, he convinced himself he must have heard them wrong. No, she couldn’t be saying that. He was doomed to wait in this limbo for eternity, Malcolm somehow both dead and alive because he didn’t have conformation of either fact. Apparently Jessica and Ainsley were both too numb to respond either, because it took the woman repeating her inquiry before the three of them to look at each other and jump up in unison. 

“Yes...-Yes-Yes that’s us!” Jessica stammered the words out. Gil could hear the tears edging into her speech, but he also saw her physically composing herself as best she could. “Is he okay? Is my son okay?”

“Could the three of you follow me please?” The woman smiled while still trying to appear somewhat neutral. Gil figured she wasn’t supposed to let on what the condition of a patient was out in the open. 

Ainsley was the first to follow; it took Jessica and Gil a second to snap out of the fog that was still entangling them. They only had to walk for a few minutes before they were led into a small conference room and told by the woman that they could sit down. None of them obliged; they all simply stared at her, barely breathing, waiting for some actual information.

“Please...we just want to know how he is,” Gil said softly. “We don’t need to deal with pleasantries.” 

The woman nodded, her facial expressions turning more serious as she pulled something up on the iPad. “Of course, I completely understand. I apologize for making the three of you wait so long. It’s been very...hectic.”

Gil’s heart stopped for a moment. Hectic? That was bad wasn’t it? If they hadn’t even had time to send a nurse down to tell them what was going on, it had to mean they needed all hands on deck with Malcolm. 

The woman took a breath and began, clearly realizing that if she delayed longer one, if not all, of the people in front of her were liable to faint on the spot. “My name is Doctor Singh, I’m the hospitals head of trauma and the leader of Malcolm’s surgical team. Let me start by saying Malcolm is alive. He presented with severe internal bleeding and he was already in hypovolemic shock when he arrived. We were thankfully able to stabilize the wound to his chest the ER, but his abdominal injuries were much more serious. In trauma’s like Malcolm’s, our first priority is to stop hemorrhaging and prevent hypothermia, acidosis and coagulopathy. Basically, we had to get him to a state in which his body is able to regulate his temperature, blood and oxygen supply, which is difficult when one is suffering from such severe blood loss. So our first priority was stopping him from losing even more blood.” 

Doctor Singh paused for a moment, a more sympathetic look betraying the neutral expression she had worn during the beginning of her speech. Jessica opened her mouth as if she was going to interrupt, but she kept going on. “We ultimately decided to take him in for a damage control laparotomy. That’s a procedure reserved for patients with severe abdominal trauma, who are too unstable for definitive organ repair. The goal is to control bleeding, which we did by suturing organs that were ruptured and packing his abdomen. Afterwards, we temporarily closed his abdomen, with the goal of reopening it in the near future to completely repair his internal injuries. It’s a drastic procedure, but it also will allow time for Malcolm to become more stable before we begin the multiple surgeries he will need going forward. In addition, we put a temporary shunt in his forearm, where the knife damaged his radial artery, to reestablish blood flow to his hand. He’ll most likely need a follow up surgery for that injury as well. The wound to his face was fairly deep, but there was no nerve damage and we’ll be monitoring it closely for signs of infection.”

Doctor Singh stopped, grasping the iPad in front of her chest as she looked amongst the three people in front of her, clearly waiting for some kind of response. Gil looked between Jessica and Ainsley, still too shocked to speak. Eventually, Ainsley managed to get out a slow, “So he’s okay?...He’s stable now?”

Doctor Singh looked at them sympathetically. “Unfortunately, Malcolm’s condition is still quite erratic. His heart stopped once during surgery; we were able to resuscitate him, but it’s still under a lot of strain between the trauma and the operation itself. He’s currently in the ICU, being rewarmed and receiving fluid resuscitation and blood transfusions, which is the next step in the process of damage control surgery. We have an entire team of specialists monitoring him, with the hope that in the next day or two we will be able to perform a definitive repair of his abdomen. It’s a long and difficult process, but I can assure you that Malcolm is receiving the best medical treatment possible.”

“Can we see him now?” The words burst from Jessica, even though Doctor Singh didn’t seem entirely finished with Ainsley’s question. Gil saw the desperation in her face; her eyes were pleading, as if the doctor had already denied her request. He was glad she had voiced the question that had been burning in his throat since Doctor Singh told them Malcolm was still alive. 

“Of course you can see him. All we ask is that we keep it limited to immediate family for now, which I assume you all are.”

Ainsely was nodding vigorously before Gil could even say something about his actual relationship to Malcolm. Gil was grateful for it; he didn’t know how he’d cope with being unable to see him. 

“Okay, I have to go check and make sure Malcolm is completely set up in the ICU, but the nurse will be down here soon to take you all up.” Doctor Singh looked like she was finished, but then she quickly added: “It may be overwhelming to see him. Malcolm is still at the point where he requires several machines to control basic bodily functions, like breathing and getting in fluids. He’s still unconscious and on a ventilator; he won’t be aware or respond to you. I know it can be a hard thing for families to see.”

The three of them nodded along, but Gil knew they were all barely listening; they just wanted to see Malcolm. Gil didn’t even know where to begin processing what they had just been told. Everything sounded so tenuous, like Malcolm was barely clinging on to life. He had let go, his heart had stopped. Gil had been sitting out here doing nothing and Malcolm had died. Even if they got him back, he knew that imagine would haunt him for the rest of his life. And now everything was out of his control; he had failed to keep Malcolm safe and now there was nothing else he could do for the boy but pray and let the doctors do their work, hoping that he would make it through this. 

Still, he knew that ultimately, it didn’t matter what state Malcolm was in now, as long as he was alive. He is alive. Gil just had to keep reminding himself of that fact. He found himself reaching out to hold Jessica’s hand. When she didn’t push him away, he squeezed it, knowing they both needed something to tether them to the ground as the world slowly fell apart around them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Check out my tumblr @ malclolmbright for subpar gifs and a lot of crying over Malcolm Bright.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a bit longer to post, I appreciate the patience! I'm not super happy with this chapter but there were a few plot points I needed to take care of before I can get into the Good stuff (also I'm sorry if Jessica comes off as too mean, she's just scared and worried about her son and needs a hug and a break). And I added a tag for it, but just a warning for talk of a past suicide attempt in this chapter.

When Malcolm was fourteen, he tried to kill himself. 

Gil remembered getting the call from a hysterical Jessica, he and Jackie waking up at midnight and rushing to their car, drinking terrible coffee in the emergency room while they waited for the doctor to come out. He remembered finally being allowed to see Malcolm; he was in the pediatrics wing, the walls of his room were decorated with smiling giraffe graphics and his hospital gown was covered in little red balloons. He remembered how small he had seemed, the machines in the room and the tubes and wires in his arms easily overpowering him. He remembered holding Jessica and his wife's hands as the three of them cried softly, waiting for Malcolm to finally wake up. 

He remembered thinking it was the worst moment of his entire life.

But it was nothing compared to this.

Gil should have better prepared himself like Doctor Singh told them to do. But even then, he wasn’t sure it was possible to prepare for what awaited him in the ICU. Malcolm was lying in a hospital bed, and although there were no giraffes or balloons, he somehow looked just as small as he had at 14. There was barely any visible skin that didn’t have a wire, tube or drain attached to it. IV polls hung around him like trees, some filled with a clear liquid, others with blood, and they were joined by half a dozen other machines Gil couldn’t even begin to decipher the purposes of. A large tube was going down Malcolm’s throat, held in place by a band that wrapped around his mouth and the lower part of his face. It was the only thing keeping him breathing. And of course there was the heart monitor, that even Gil knew was beeping too slowly. 

Malcolm himself was pale, paler than Gil had ever seen him before, and he knew it was from all the blood he had lost. His eyes were closed and he wasn’t moving at all, but it didn’t seem peaceful. Gil knew it was all artificial; he was completely sedated and the older man couldn’t help but wonder if Malcolm was having nightmares about being stabbed, simply unable to express what was happening thanks to whatever anesthesia he was under. 

The wound on his cheek was stitched up, irritated, red skin that had been forced together with thick, black thread providing the only bit of color in Malcolm’s face. When the three of them first walked into the room, Jessica had stopped and just stared at that particular spot for what felt like an eternity before finally mumbling something about what a sloppy job the hospital’s plastic surgeon had done with the stitching and that she would call in the one she knew personally to take a second look at it. All Gil had been able to do was look over at Ainsley, twin looks of sadness dawning on their face as they watched Jessica try to assert some kind of control over a situation they were all powerless against. 

The only other visible injury was Malcolm’s right arm, which was covered in bandages and gauze going from slightly above his elbow to his wrist. The worst injury they couldn’t even see; his abdomen was covered by a blanket that went up to his chest. The nurse had explained that they needed to be very careful not to move him, as his abdomen had not been fully closed after surgery. The incision was covered with a sterile dressing and bag, and, although he couldn’t see it, Gil suddenly felt nauseous just imagining Malcolm’s intestines and other organs not even being fully in his body. Nurses, technicians and doctors, streamed in and out of the room so often, there were barely any periods longer than fifteen minutes in which Gil, Jessica, and Ainsely were alone with Malcolm. Each new person had told them their name and what their job was, but Gil had quickly forgotten all of them and he imagined the two women had as well. 

It was now nearly noon, and none of them had left Malcolm’s side. Jessica pulled up a chair to the left side of his bed, so she could hold the hand of his uninjured arm. Gil and Ainsley sat to his right. There wasn’t much talking and when it did occur, it was usually just one of them speaking to a nurse. 

Ainsley was the one to break the silence that had settled over the group after yet another technician came in to collect a sample of Malcolm’s blood for yet another test. “What the hell happened?” She didn’t look up from her brother, but it was clear the question was directed at Gil. He slumped in on himself, feeling even more guilt piling on; he should have told Jessica and Ainsley what had happened while they were still in the waiting room. All they knew was that Malcolm had been badly injured. 

“He was...we were working on a case. You know all those stabbings that have been occurring throughout the city?”

Ainsley nodded, looking up to face Gil. He noticed Jessica still hadn’t lifted her gaze from Malcolm, but her grip on his left hand seemed to tighten. Gil continued on. “Malcolm was working on a lead and called me during the night, saying he thought there was going to be another attack tonight based on patterns he’d found. It was clear he hadn’t slept at all...I didn’t want to indulge him but I knew he would just go off on his own if I said no so I agreed to go watch the suspect's house in case he was right.”

“And he was right, wasn’t he?” Ainsely choked out. She hadn’t cried yet, but as Gil’s story progressed it was clear she was getting closer to tears. “He’s always right about everything, isn’t he? It can be so annoying.” There was a minuscule laugh hidden behind her words but it did little to alleviate her depressing monotone. 

“Yeah...he was right. We followed the suspect for a while but eventually lost sight of him.” Gil paused, unsure of what to say next. This was the point in which he was the most to blame. Letting Malcolm leave his apartment at all was irresponsible enough, but letting him walk off on his own while they were in pursuit was the worst decision he had ever made. If he had just followed the kid, he could have taken the suspect out, or at least shielded Malcolm from the attack. Gil’s failure to protect Malcolm was the last thing he wanted to admit, but he knew his mother and sister deserved the full truth. “I thought we should just go back to the car since we still didn’t have much evidence linking the suspect to the attacks, but Malcolm insisted on trying to find him. I...I didn’t go with him. Next thing I knew, I heard him screaming.”

Ainsley shut her eyes and shook her head, trying to keep the tears at bay. Gil had stopped crying a while ago, but between his admission and Ainsley’s reaction, his eyes were already stinging from the tears welling up in them. He took a breath, before continuing. “When I found him...there was just so much blood, everywhere. I tried so hard to help him-”

“Stop.” 

Gil and Ainsley looked up and across the bed. Jessica had not moved from her position; perfectly still, gazing down at her son, her hand wrapped around his as she gently rubbed circles in his palm. The word was quiet, but harsh and packed full of sadness and fear. It was shocking to hear; out of the three of them, Jessica had been the most quiet. 

“Jessica-”

“I said stop it.” This was said with more anger, as Jessica lifted her head to meet Gil’s gaze. He watched her squeeze Malcolm’s hand even tighter. “I don’t want to hear another word from you about my son. You’re the reason he’s here in the first place. You’re the reason he is dying.” The last word was choked out, the sadness she was feeling catching up with with the fire in her voice. 

Gil was too stunned at the outburst to speak, but Ainsley quickly jumped to his defense. “Mom, I know you’re scared and upset, we all are, but you can’t blame Gil for this. He saved Malcolm’s life.”

“After putting it in jeopardy in the first place!” 

Jessica was getting dangerously close to screaming, and Gil knew none of the staff in the ICU would be appreciative of the fact. But he still couldn’t bring himself to speak. Part of him knew this was coming, but he was still shocked it had taken this long. He thought that after they comforted each other before being taken up to see Malcolm, it meant that things would be okay between them. God only knew Gil was punishing himself enough for what happened. But seeing Malcolm must have caused all the intense emotions Jessica was feeling to bubble up to the surface until she finally snapped. 

“You say you care about Malcolm, you say you love him, but you don’t! All you care about is using him to solve your cases. That’s all he’s good for, isn’t it? He’d be utterly useless if it wasn’t for that one saving grace, isn’t that right? Thank God that before irrevocably traumatizing my son, Martin made him good at police work! You’re the reason he started seeing his father again, you’re the reason he’s been getting so much worse, and you’re the reason he is dying!”

Jessica was actually screaming by the end of her rant, and tears were falling down her face. She was squeezing Malcolm’s hand so hard, Gil was almost worried she was going to break one of his fingers. He finally forced himself to reply, trying to keep his voice steady. “Jessica, you know Malcolm is a grown adult, I didn’t force him to do anything.” There was a bitter harshness to his words, but it was undercut by his own tears. “You’re right, I should have done more to protect him last night, but how can you say I don’t love Malcolm? I love him like a son.”

“No, you don’t! If you really did, then you would know that a father always puts his son’s safety above all else and you wouldn’t let him work for you when it’s clearly destroying him!” Jessica was full on sobbing by now, but her voice didn’t waver. The words were coming out fast, but each one was laced with venom. Gil hadn’t seen her this angry in years. “Working with the police was already ruining his mental state, and now he could actually die for it. I hope you’re happy lieutenant! I’m sure your closure rate has gone through the roof these past few months, and you only have one casualty one your hands.”

“Jessica, you need to listen to me-”

“Get the hell out of here! Right now.” Gil balked, not expecting the order, despite how angry Jessica clearly was. Before he could even begin to form a coherent reply, she was charging on. “You’re not Malcolm’s family and you have no right to be here. I don’t ever want to see you again, I never should have let you and the goddamn NYPD stay in my son’s life. All the police have ever done is destroy my family and I’m not taking it anymore. If Malcolm survives, I want you out of his life!”

Jessica stopped, trying to steady her breathing. She was looking solely at Gil now, her green eyes burning with rage. There was sadness in the gaze somewhere, but it was easily overpowered by the anger that was all directed at the man across from her. Between that and the orders she just screamed at him, Gil was lurching back in his chair, his jaw locking back defensively. Before he could even think of how to reply, Ainsley stepped in again. 

“Mom, stop it.” Her voice was firm. She had stopped crying, clearly trying to remain calm and rational to keep the two older adults from devolving even further into a screaming match. “We’re all in pain, we’re all worried about Malcolm, but screaming at Gil doesn’t help anyone! He wasn’t the one who attacked Malcolm, he was the one who helped him. And I know you remember the countless times he’s helped Malcolm before.”

Gil looked between the two women, trying to keep his expression neutral. Part of him wanted to scream back at Jessica, remind her the only reason Malcolm needed him as a kid was because half the time she was too busy drowning her own sorrows in alcohol to bother with him. Remind her that it was him and Jackie who would pick up a sobbing Malcolm whenever he had a night terror and he couldn’t go back to sleep and his mother was too drunk to get up and comfort him. Remind her of every single thing he had ever done for the kid, how he had never made him feel bad about his career choice or changing his name or any of the other ways he tried to distance himself from the father, while she had. Remind her who had let him visit his father in the first place.

But another, equally as big, part of him wanting to start sobbing, telling her she was right and beg for forgiveness. He knew he had been reckless, he knew he should have tried harder to make sure Malcolm was in a healthy mental state before bringing him on more cases, he knew it was his job not just as Malcolm’s mentor, but as his boss, to keep him from getting hurt. He already blamed himself for what had happened, and Jessica’s cutting words did little to soothe his guilt. 

“I don’t care...just go away, Gil.” Jessica’s anger was beginning to devolve back into sadness, her words losing their edge and her head going back down so she was only looking at Malcolm. She mumbled the last few words. “I can’t see you right now…”

Gil sighed, his own gaze returning to Malcolm. He didn’t want to leave the kid. He doubted Jessica was serious about never seeing them again; it was pretty clear that was her fear talking. But still, he realized he should probably let her and Ainsley have some alone time with Malcolm, as much as it pained him to admit. 

Gil stood slowly, still looking at Malcolm. He hadn’t reacted to any of the yelling, which wasn’t a shock, Gil knew he was completely sedated, but it still killed him to notice. He let himself pat the kids shoulder, hoping the action wouldn’t cause Jessica to snap at him. 

“I’m sorry, Malcolm.” The words were so soft, Gil doubted even Ainsley could hear them from next to him. “You’re gonna be okay...I’ll see you soon.” 

He forced himself to walk straight out the door without looking back. He knew if he looked back at Malcolm, at all the machines, at how his small, broken, body paled in comparison to their size, he’d lose it completely. He stood in the hallway for a few minutes, trying to compose himself. He was feeling every emotion he had felt in the last ten hours at once; fear, guilt, anger, sadness swirled inside him like a tornado. Part of him still wanted to rush back in and refuse to leave Malcolm’s side, another wanted to break down on the floor crying, and yet another wanted to go smash his hand through a window just to hurt himself and show everyone else how horribly angry he really was.

But he knew he couldn’t do any of that. He had to remain cool and collected, like he always did. He had to detach himself from Malcolm, at least for now. But he didn’t think that was possible anymore.

Before Gil could turn back to the elevators, he heard footsteps behind him. He turned around to find Ainsley, looking incredibly apologetic.

“I’m so sorry, you didn’t deserve any of that.” She bit her lip and rocked on the balls of her feet. It was clear how exhausted she was, physically and mentally. “She just...can be dramatic, you know that. I promise I will keep you updated. I can guarantee that in less than six hours she’s going to be begging me to get you back here.”

Gil smiled, trying to show his gratitude, but it still felt hollow. “Thanks, Ainsley. And it’s all okay, your mother has a point...it’s probably good for me to step back for a second.”

Ainsely nodded rapidly, relief spreading across her face. “Thank you for understanding. Just...thank you for saving my brother.” Gil began to object, but she raised her hand to start him. “You did save him. And I don’t just mean what happened tonight.”

“I’ll see you soon, Ainsley.” It was all he could manage to get out. Before Ainsley could reply, he forced himself to walk down the hallway, leaving Malcolm behind. 

\--------------------------------------

“You know it isn’t your fault, right?” 

“If I had a dollar for every time I’ve heard that today, I could afford to retire.”

“It’s the truth. And you’re even worse than Malcolm is at pretending to be okay.”

Gil sighed, taking a sip of the coffee Dani had brought him. His exhaustion had finally caught up with him and he appreciated the young detective bringing him something to help. Right now, even the smallest gestures were making his chest ache with warmth.

After leaving the hospital, he took a taxi back to the suspects house to retrieve his car. He knew he probably looked like an escaped psychiatric patient with the hospital scrubs he was still wearing and the strange mix of sadness and frustration in his eyes, but the driver had been kind enough not to comment. Gil’s luck continued when he found his car hadn’t been towed despite how long her had left it there. 

But before he could even let out a thankful prayer for that small miracle, he was bombarded by police officers, who had been streaming in and out of the town house. 

“Where the hell have you been, Arroyo?” Gil straightened, trying to look as professional as one could in hospital scrubs with eyes still red from crying. The liteaunent speaking to him, Daniel Zino, was the head of homicide, which Gil assumed had taken over the case from his unit after what had occurred last night. “We’ve been trying to call you all morning! Couple of unis caught Peyton Bishop while they were patrolling the area, around 4 am. He was trying to attack a homeless man while he still had blood on his jacket. Can you imagine the balls on this guy? Staying out after nearly killing a cop?”

Gil didn’t bother correcting Zino on Malcolm’s role in the NYPD; he was still too out of it to even remember who Peyton Bishop was. It took Zino literally snapping his fingers in Gil’s face for him to come back to where he was. He slowly nodded along as the other liteaunent kept speaking, trying to remember details from the case, which seemed to have completely vanished from his mind the second Malcolm had been attacked.

As Zino ranted on, the basic information began returning. Putting a face and background to the man who had nearly killed Malcolm did little to make Gil feel any better.

Peyton Bishop. 30 year old wall street banker, lives in Tribeca with his girlfriend Evelyn. Handsome, rich, climbing up the corporate ladder, the last person you’d think of if someone showed you the photos of the stabbing victims and told them to imagine their killer. Which was exactly why Malcolm was so insistent it was him; his profile rested on the idea that the murderer was someone who was killing out of pent up rage, but still had the wherewithal to avoid being caught. Most young professionals working 80 hours a week played golf to relieve stress. Bishop traveled across Manhattan in the middle of the night until he found someone he could stab to death.

“He tried to play it off when we brought him in for questioning, went back to his girlfriends alibi for the night of the other murders but you know how well that’ll hold up in court.” Zino laughed and Gil fought the urge to punch the lieutenant square in the jaw. How could he be so casual about this? “Even if we somehow can’t pin him to the other murders, we got him hooked for the two attempts last night. Can’t imagine making a hundred and fifty grand a year and still turning to murder.” Zino shook his head, looking back at the town house Gil knew cost more than he would ever make in his life. 

He remembered what Malcolm always said; serial killers aren’t just born, they’re made. Malcolm would care why Peyton Bishop murdered nine people over the past six months. He would want some kind of explanation. But in that moment, Gil didn’t care at all. He didn’t care why Bishop did what he did, he just wanted him to suffer for it. He wanted to drive down to central booking and punch the man’s face in so he knew even a fraction of the pain he’d caused Malcolm. Zino must have noticed the look of rage creeping up on Gil’s face, because he immediately took a more somber tone. 

“Probably not the best time to tell you, but the Brass want you back at the station. They need your report of what happened last night.”

After changing into a spare set of clothes he kept in his trunk, Gil obliged. The next four hours were a blur of paperwork, “what were you thinking”’s, and several slaps on the wrist. None of his superiors were happy; with him or with Malcolm, but it was kind of hard to be angry at someone who was currently barely hanging on to life at a hospital four miles away, so Gil took the brunt of it. He wasn’t going to be punished in any official capacity, nothing he had done was technically off protocol and he and Malcolm’s actions had prevented the man from killing again that night, but he knew the chief would be keeping an eye on him and Malcolm would have to beg to be brought back on as a consultant.

If he survives, a bitter voice hissed in Gil’s mind. He tried to ignore it; he had pushed away thoughts of the kid for the past few hours, robotically going through the bureaucratic motions he so dreaded and solely focusing his attention on the task at hand. It was the only thing keeping him from breaking down in the middle of the precinct.

When Gil had finally been dismissed, he rushed back to his office to grab his things, and was surprised to see Dani waiting for him with coffee. 

“Drink,” she said, forcing the still hot cup into his hand. “And sit down. You have a hell of a lot of explaining to do.”

So Gil spent another half an hour telling Dani all that had transpired. He told her about the attack itself, including how he left Malcolm alone, about Malcolm’s condition, and finally the fact that Jessica had kicked him out of the hospital. He would have said something more, but by the time he reached that point in the story, the tears were threatening to fall again. Dani noticed immediately and pushed a box of tissues towards him. Gil could tell she had to make a concerted effort not to cry herself. 

“It’s not your fault,” she repeated. “You can’t focus on the past. Malcolm needs you right now, you can’t just be having a pity party for yourself.” 

Gil appreciated the tough love. He never usually was so sentimental, but this was Malcolm. Malcolm was hurt and probably trapped in his mind, completely terrified and Gil couldn’t even be by his side because he had screwed up so much. He periodically checked his text messages, hoping Ainsely would tell him Jessica calmed down and he could come back. She hadn’t yet, but she had been texting him updates religiously; every time a nurse came in and took Malcolm’s vitals, she wrote them down for Gil, although he knew neither of them really understood what they meant.

“Sorry you have to see me like this,” Gil said, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and pointer finger. “Not exactly inspiring confidence as a leader, am I?”

“You don’t have to be a leader right now. It’s okay to just be...a family member of the victim.” The final word was said almost bitterly, as if Dani hated to use the term to refer to Malcolm. Gil couldn’t blame her. 

“Once Jessica comes around, I’ll take you to go see him,” Gil promised. “It’s supposed to be family only in the ICU, but I think between the badge and the fact that there’s a wing of the hospital named after the Milton’s, they might bend the rules for us. I know you want to see him.”

Dani tried to hide her smile, looking down at her own coffee. “He’s gonna be okay, Gil. I know it looks bad now, but Malcolm’s getting the best care he can. He’s too stubborn to die.”

Gil began to laugh, but was interrupted by his phone ringing. Seeing Ainsley’s name flash across the screen, he picked it and hit the answer button in one swift motion. “Ainsley? Is everything okay? Can I come see Malcolm now?”

“Gil, you need to get here now.”

Ainsley was crying and Gil could hear shouting in the background. He immediately tensed up, straining his ear so he could hear what she was saying properly. Dani must have noticed his shift, because she frowned, leaning foward to try and hear what was happening on the other end of the line.

“Ainsley, what is going on?” 

“Malcolm flatlined! I don’t know what’s happening, they won’t let us see him.” The voices in the background grew louder. “Just...please, come here, and hurry!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Check out my tumblr @ malclolmbright for subpar gifs and a lot of crying over Malcolm Bright.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so short! I've had writers block lately, particularly with this story :( I might pull an Internal Affairs and skip forward a bit time wise in the next few chapters (mainly because I have a lot more plot ideas for once Malcolm is actually...awake). Thank you all for your patience and I hope you enjoy!

After Ainsley hung up, everything moved so quickly.

Gil could barely recall how he had gotten from his office, to Dani’s car, to right outside the hospital. He didn’t hear any of her reassurances, he didn’t speak, he didn’t even pause to look where he was going as he rushed through the parking lot. Dani had to do all the talking for them, practically restraining Gil physically to keep him from running right up to Malcolm’s room. Dani’s charisma and badge were enough to get the two of them to the ICU, where everything seemed to finally stop once Gil exited the elevator and saw Jessica and Ainsley sitting in the waiting room. 

Gil couldn’t see Jessica’s expression; her hands were buried in her face. Ainsley had her arm wrapped around her mom’s shoulder and was squeezing it reassuringly. Gil could tell Ainsley was trying incredibly hard not to cry, with just an occasional sniffle betraying her emotions. Gil didn’t know how to approach the two of them, so he was grateful that when Ainsley noticed him and Dani standing in the entryway, she stood up. 

Before Gil could even get a single word out, Ainsley was rushing over to hug him. The lieutenant hadn’t been expected this, but the gesture immediately brought out the tears he himself had been holding back. Despite being a good half a foot taller, Gil found himself resting his head on Ainsley’s shoulder, doing his best to keep his breathing steady. 

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbled when she finally pulled back. “This is all…”

“No...Please, not now.” Ainsely looked back at her mother. She didn’t moved from her position; hunched over, face buried in hands, her stillness only occasional interrupted when a particularly harsh sob shook her shoulders. “We don’t know anything yet. It was so...terrifying to see. Malcolm’s expression didn’t change at all, the only reason we knew something was wrong was when his heart monitor started beeping faster and faster. And then suddenly an alarm was going off and they made us leave, but before they could we saw the monitor again…”

Gil nodded, filling in the blanks himself. The waiting room they were in was on the opposite side of the ICU from where Malcolm’s room was, and Gil guessed they were taken here so they wouldn’t try and see what was happening. There was a flash of anger over the fact that no one was telling them what was going on, but it was quickly replaced by a wave of fear that was so sudden and devastating, he had to sit down. 

Dani quickly moved to sit beside him, as Ainsley returned to comforting her mother. He felt terrible admitting it, but he had practically forgotten the young detective was here, until she began speaking. 

“I can’t even imagine what this must feel like.” 

Gil shook his head. “I can...and not just because of….this.” He gestured around them. “This was what happened with Jackie.”

Dani straightened, clearly not expecting Gil to begin talking about his deceased wife. Dani had only met her a few times before her death, but she knew how much Gil loved her and that her passing had been completely unexpected. Just a few chairs over, Ainsley shifted her glance to Gil, sympathy already pushing aside the sorrow in her own expression.

“She was in critical condition for only a couple hours when her heart gave out. I couldn’t be in the room back then either and it destroyed me.” Gil paused, doing his best to speak around his tears. “I prayed for a miracle, prayed for her to come back from the brink of death, to come back to me. And she did. They got her heart beating again and I thought everything was going to be fine.”

Gil stopped again, unsure if he should continue. He knew the story might just be making Jessica and Ainsley feel worse but he was so terrified and he needed some kind of reassurance that what happened three years ago wasn't going to happen again now. “But it wasn’t. Her heart was beating again, but her brain had been deprived of oxygen for too long. The doctors told me how sorry they were...they told me they knew it would be hard, but that Jackie was gone and I needed to make the decision to terminate life support. But I couldn’t believe she was dead; her heart was beating, she couldn’t be dead.” 

Ainsley shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut. Gil knew she knew the story, Malcolm had told her everything that happened, including the fact that it took Gil three days to finally give in and sign the forms that allowed the doctors to turn off the machines that were keeping her alive. He wondered if she and Jessica had been thinking about it even before Gil had brought it up, just hoping that there would be a different outcome. 

As if reading his thoughts, Dani reached to put her hand on Gil’s shoulder. While telling the story he had become hunched in on himself, so she leaned forward to meet his gaze. “Gil, I’m so sorry. I’m sure Jackie fought as hard as she could...but you know just because it happened to her doesn't mean it’ll happen to Malcolm.”

Gil nodded, straightening himself up in his seat. Somehow he still felt self conscious about appearing weak in front of Dani. If she could keep herself together, he should be able to too. But still, he couldn’t help himself be swept away in a wave of intense, horrible, emotions. 

He was angry at himself for letting his guard down. Being able to see Malcolm, in horrible shape, but still alive, had lulled him to a feeling of security. He subconsciously thought it meant the worst was over and Malcolm was out of the woods. But now Gil realized just how naive that had been. 

How could he have left his side? He should have just ignored Jessica, ride out the storm until she had calmed down. At the very least Gil should have waited in the hospital, not just go back to the precinct, as if paperwork was more important than Malcolm. He’d trade his job for the kids well being any day. 

But Gil hadn’t stayed. He just might have missed Malcolm’s last moments on earth. The thought slammed into him hard as he tried to remind himself that he thought the same thing when Malcolm was first attacked, and the kid had pulled through. But even that reasoning couldn’t prevent the train of thought that was already overtaking him.

There’d be a funeral. Jessica wouldn’t want him there. Maybe Ainsley would convince her to let him come. Gil didn’t even know if he could handle being there; he had completely fallen apart at Jackie’s funeral. In fact, it was Malcolm who had supported him through the whole thing. He had arranged all the details so Gil didn’t have to think about it, he had stood beside him while he gave his eulogy through tears, he even stayed at his house for two weeks afterwards so it wouldn’t feel so empty. Malcolm had always done so much for him and Gil couldn’t even keep the kid alive. How ironic, considering it had been Malcolm who had saved his life all those years ago.

Dani must have been able to tell where Gil’s thoughts were going because she spoke up again. “We don’t know anything right now. Don’t just assume the worst.”

The lieutenant nodded again but still didn’t meet her gaze. Afterwards, the four sat in silence, waiting to find out if they were going to be told the most horrible news of their lives. 

When Gil saw Doctor Singh finally walk in, just a few minutes later, he didn’t feel any relief. Not when there was such a good chance that she was coming in to tell them that Malcolm was dead. Her expression was completely neutral, not betraying whether she bore good news or bad, and Gil fought the urge to scream at her in frustration. 

“Mrs. Whitly, I’m so sorry to keep you and your family waiting.” Gil looked over to Jessica, who still hadn’t moved her head from her hands. Ainsley gave her mother’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze as she nodded her head, encouraging the doctor to proceed. “We were able to resuscitate Malcolm-”

Jessica let out a sob, her entire body curling into itself as she dropped her head to her lap. Ainsley hugged her mom from her chair and whispered something to her Gil couldn’t make out. The doctor gave them all a moment, as Ainsley silently encouraged her mother to sit up. 

Gil knew he should feel relief, but he still couldn’t bring himself to release any of the worry and tension still racking his body. Next to him, Dani seemed to relax, and he saw her wipe away a few tears with her sleeves. Gil had no idea when she started crying. Looking over at Ainsley and her mother, he watched Jessica continue to cry. He felt guilty for it, but part of him wished she would get a handle on herself so the doctor could tell them everything else. He needed to know how bad it really was. 

Thankfully, Ainsley finally got her mother to take her hands away and look at the doctor. “I’m sorry...is he-how is he now?”

Doctor Singh gave them the same sympathetic smile she wore when she first told them how serious Malcolm’s condition was, and Gil felt his chest tighten even more. “We got him back relatively quickly and his brain shows no sign of oxygen deprivation, which is good. However...I won’t sugarcoat it. Malcolm flatlining for a second time is very concerning. It could mean there is still uncontrolled internal bleeding or that his heart is too weak to continue supporting his body. Malcolm is too unstable to be taken down to the OR again, which means all we can do is continue to provide physiological support and monitor his heart closely. The next twenty-four hours will be crucial.”

Ainsley and Dani both nodded quickly, hope spreading across their faces. Gil and Jessica had the opposite reaction; twin looks of fear and anguish took over their expression. Doctor Singh continued smiling, although Gil could see how strained it was. He looked back over to Jessica, wondering if he should excuse himself now. Surely she’d just force him to leave again. But Gil knew he couldn’t do that. He wouldn’t do that. He would never leave Malcolm’s side, not when the kid needed him. He hadn’t been there when the kid was attacked but now he wasn’t going anywhere. No one could tell him otherwise.

Gil looked over to Doctor Singh, and he could tell she knew what he was going to say next. “Can we see him now?”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *shows up to this fic 2 weeks late with starbucks*
> 
> Heyyy I'm back!!! Like I said writer's block...Not Fun. I apologize for the wait, but this chapter is nearly 5000 words so I hope that makes up for it somewhat. Thank you all for sticking with it <3

The following twenty-four hours were the worst of Gil’s entire life.

The first few were spent in almost complete stillness, as if even getting up from his chair would cause Malcolm to immediately flatline. He and Jessica had both returned to their spots by the bed, their earlier argument forgotten, at least for the moment. There were more important things at hand. Dani had come in the room as well, and Gil saw her expression completely break when she saw Malcolm. 

Gil couldn't blame her. Hell, he had already seen Malcolm in the hospital room that morning and he was still taken aback, not just by how the kid looked, but how overwhelming all the machines surrounding him were. Gil watched as Dani’s eyes filled with tears and she covered her mouth with her hands, clearly trying to suppress a sob. She looked almost confused, as if she didn’t believe what was in front of her. Gil imagined if someone took a photo of him when he first walked through the door that morning, he would have worn the same expression. 

At first Dani seemed to step back, but then she immediately came closer again, hesitating. “I-” She looked down for a moment, trying to compose herself. “I’m sorry.” Gil gave her a weak and watery smile. Jessica didn’t take her eyes off Malcolm.

“Can I-” She stopped, looking between the two sitting beside the bed. Ainsley wasn’t currently in the room; after stopping in quickly to see her brother again, she went to the hall to call her work to tell them where she had been and that she wouldn’t be coming in the next few days either. Before she left, she also made a soft comment about grabbing dinner for everyone, although Gil doubted any of them had much of an appetite. 

“Can I-” Dani started again, trying to keep her voice steady. “I mean...Mrs. Whitly, do you mind if I…” She gestured to the chair Ainsley had been sitting in that was next to Gil’s seat. “I’d like to talk to your son, if that’s okay?”

“He can’t hear you,” Jessica mumbled, busysing herself with rubbing her hand up and down Malcolm’s left arm, in what would have been a comforting gesture if he could feel it. 

“I know, I just-”

“Dani, it’s fine. You can come over.” Gil nodded her towards his side. He knew Jessica wouldn’t care and she didn’t have the emotional energy to reply anymore. Her voice was already so detached, so distant. 

Dani hesitated a final time, taking another look at the machines encasing Malcolm’s bed like a macabre canopy, before rushing to sit down in the chair. Her eyes went straight to the figure in the bed and Gil saw the tears begin to fall even quicker. “Hey, Bright.” All of the confidence she had in her voice when she was reassuring Gil earlier was gone. Seeing the actual state Malcolm was in had ripped away any bit of denial she had left. “It’s Dani...Sorry I haven’t come to see you yet. It looks like they’re taking good care of you here.” She smiled weakly and raised her head to look around the room, as if she still couldn’t comprehend the magnitude of everything surrounding them. “I guess we should be glad you’re finally getting some rest...and I didn’t even have to punch you this time.”

She said the words with a laugh, but there was no genuine humor to be found in her voice. Gil watched her look between him and Jessica again, before slowly reaching her hand out towards Malcolm’s shoulder and giving it a small squeeze. “We found Bishop,” she added, suddenly as if the thought had just come to her. “You were right, he fit your profile to a T. So you don’t have to worry about that...your closure rate remains at one hundred percent.”

Gil could tell she was trying to keep things light, as light as they could be in a situation like this anyway, but he still tensed up at Bishop’s name. He hoped they had thrown him in a particularly disgusting cell at central booking. 

Dani continued to keep her hand on Malcolm’s shoulder. “Bright...I’m so sorry...I haven’t ever told you how much you mean to me and I should have before...I’m really glad you’re my friend.” Gil heard the last word stick in her throat and he had to fight back his own tears once again. 

Dani pulled her hand back to herself, quickly turning to look over at Gil. “What…” She wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt. “What did the doctors say? About...his chances?”

Gil sighed, looking back over to Jessica, who was still staring attentively at her son. He guessed she must be in her own world, since she didn’t even flinch at Dani’s bluntness. “Obviously the flatlining isn’t great...but even before then it was touch and go. He wasn’t even stable enough for them to repair the internal injuries, they just...did their best to stop the bleeding...his stomach isn’t even closed yet…” Gil flinched at the mental image once again. “He’s going to need more surgeries, which means it’ll be awhile before they can even wake him up.”

Dani nodded slowly, eyes darting back and forth from Gil to Malcolm. “He’s a fighter. He’s not going to die.” Some of the certainty was returning to her voice, albeit slowly. Still, at this point Gil wished he had even a quarter of the confidence in her voice.

The three of them returned to silence, Gil fixing his gaze on Malcolm, Jessica keeping her head bowed practically to the mattress and Dani returning her hand to Malcolm’s upper arm. Ainsley returned about an hour later, arms weighed down with not only bags of food, but two suitcases, a backpack, and a cardboard tray with four coffees. Gil honestly had no idea had he managed to carry it all, but he was grateful at least one of them was thinking ahead. He knew Jessica and Ainsley wouldn’t be leaving Malcolm’s side that night and, with any luck, he wouldn’t either. 

“Sorry Gil, Dani, I had to guess your coffee order,” she set the drinks down on the counter of a sink that was situated in the corner. “And I hope everyone likes sandwiches because this little corner store down the street was the only place without a line.” No one would describe her voice as chipper, but when compared to the somber silence engulfing the room, Ainsley might as well have come in announcing plans to throw a surprise party. She must have noticed the expressions of the trio sitting beside the bed (or lack of expression, in Jessica’s case, as she was still keeping her head bent so low) because she quickly sobered up and turned her gaze down to the suitcases and bags she had dropped on the floor. “Mom, I stopped by the house and packed us both a few changes of clothes. Gil, I couldn’t find anything for you...obviously. But if you want me to grab anything from your house I can go do it now.”

Gil smiled weakly at Ainsley. He wondered if running all these errands were helping her stay distracted. She was always so good at compartmentalizing. He had seen it watching her and Malcolm grow up; Ainsley was always ready to redirect conversation away from their father and take control of an uncomfortable or upsetting situation, whereas Malcolm just tended to shut down. The two of them had relied on each other so much as kids; despite the five year age difference, they were closer than any other siblings Gil knew, thanks to the circumstances they grew up in. He loved Malcolm like a son but he still didn’t even think he could grasp what Ainsley was feeling at the moment. Probably like a part of herself was dying and she had no control over it. 

“Thank you, Ainsley, but I can drive myself home later and pick up anything I need.” Gil knew he was pushing his luck with the implication that he planned to stay the night, but if Jessica noticed she didn’t say anything. Dani began to stand up and offer Ainsley the seat, but she waved her off.

“Stay. I need to pass out dinner anyway,” Ainsley said, moving to take the individually wrapped sandwiches out of the large, plastic bag. “Besides, I’m sure Malcolm will be glad to hear another voice. He’s probably sick of mine already.”

Ainsley laughed a bit at her comment, but Gil saw the pain in her expression. Dani looked like she wanted to protest the offer, but Gil shot her a look that told her not to argue about it. Besides, he knew that she wasn’t ready to leave Malcolm’s side yet. The relief that flooded her face when she settled back in the chair and returned her hand to Malcolm’s arm was enough to tell him that.

A nurse entering to get another blood sample from Malcolm got Gil standing up and going over to Ainsley to give the woman room to work. He watched from across the room, still feeling sick at the sight of Malcolm not even reacting to a needle plunging into the crook of his elbow. Jessica started whispering “it’s okay” while she ran her fingers through her sons hair, as if Malcolm could feel what was happening and needed to be soothed. Somehow that was even more painful for Gil to see than Malcolm’s haunting stillness.

“I got mom a veggie wrap and a turkey sandwich for myself. I didn’t know what you or Dani would want so I just got two clubs because I figured you can’t go wrong with a classic and an extra veggie wrap in case Dani doesn’t eat meat or if anyone else was still hungry-”  
“Ainsley, it’s okay. Honestly, any kind of food sounds delicious at this point. I would eat a piece of cardboard with some mustard on it right now.” Gil could see Ainsley was getting worked up; she had practically smashed some of the sandwiches with how hard she was pulling them from the bag and slamming them down on the counter. He couldn’t see her expression since her eyes were still fixed on her task, but he saw how she was beginning to shake and knew she was liable to start crying at any moment. 

“I’m sorry, it’s just…” She trailed off, taking a second to look over her shoulder at her brother. The nurse was finishing up. Jessica was as still as Malcolm was and Dani’s only movement was running her hand up and down Malcolm’s shoulder. He looked so pale, so sick, so hurt. “I don’t want to lose him.” The words came out in a whisper, her voice filled with unimaginable sorrow. “Gil, I’m so scared. I don’t want him to die...I don’t know what I’d do without him...But I feel so helpless.”

Ainsley was clearly crying by now, although she was trying to keep it quiet enough so her mother didn’t hear. Gil didn’t think it mattered much; Jessica was so zoned in on Malcolm, Ainsley could be full out sobbing and she still wouldn’t even lift her head. He felt horrible for her, he knew how terrifying the situation was for all of them, but it was clearly hitting Ainsley harder than she even wanted to admit. He turned so he could wrap an arm over her shoulder and she immediately curled up so she could hug him. He and his wife had always been closer to Malcolm when they were kids; Jessica usually felt like she could handle Ainsley, the “normal” child, on her own. But he had still spent a good deal of time with her, and in that moment he recalled an instance when she and Malcolm both spent the night at his house. He remembered picking her up when she was just six years old, after she woke up to Malcolm screaming and thought her brother must be hurt or dying. While Jackie went to comfort the boy, he did his best to calm down the crying child in his arms, promising her that her brother was okay. He had eventually brought her into Malcolm’s room, where he was sitting up in Jackie’s arms. Ainsley immediately squirmed out of Gil’s hold and jumped on to the bed with her brother. The two of them hugged each other, Ainsley sobbing that she was so happy he was okay.

He wondered if that was how she was feeling now.

“It will be okay, Ainsley,” Gil whispered into her ear as the young woman buried her head in his shoulder. “Malcolm will be okay. He always is.” 

Gil just wished he believed what he was saying. 

\---------------------------------------

Dani and Jessica kept vigil at Malcolm’s bedside till it was nearly ten at night. With all the doctors and nurses coming and going, there wasn’t space for the four of them to all sit right next to him. Gil and Ainsley had eventually set up on the other side of the room, where there were two lounger chairs for family members who wanted to stay the night. Gil wished he could stay beside Malcolm, but he knew, and understood, that there was no chance of Jessica moving and he wanted Dani to have some time with him since she hadn’t seen him at all until now. 

The four of them had managed to get the sandwiches and coffee down at least, but now that it was getting so late the issue of sleeping arrangements had to be considered. Gil couldn’t believe all of this had happened in the span of twenty-four hours; it felt like he had aged ten years, like Malcolm being stabbed occurred a decade ago, instead of in the past day. He had left the hospital only once since arriving with Dani, to take a cab back to the station so he could pick up his car and go back to his house to pack a bag of clothing and toiletries for himself. 

He also grabbed Jackie’s rosary. 

It had been in her family for years. The design was simple, made with red beads and a silver cross on the end. Gil never used it often, at least not as often as he felt he should, but Jackie had prayed with it every night. Just holding it filled Gil with warmth and comfort. Before going back up to Malcolm’s room, he stopped in the hospital chapel for a few minutes. He prayed for Malcolm’s health, prayed he wouldn’t get worse over these next few hours, prayed to God to help heal him. Gil knew Malcolm’s own feelings on religion were complicated, to say the least, but the kid had gone to mass with Jackie on several occasions growing up and Jackie had often prayed for him. The prayers at least made Gil feel a bit better, like he had actually done something for the kid. 

Gil just hoped Malcolm was at peace, that he felt some sense of security, while he was asleep. The idea that Malcolm might still be tortured by night terrors in his state was too horrible to even consider.

After taking a few more minutes to compose himself (between the thoughts of Malcolm and how overwhelmed he always got in the presence of reminders of Jackie, Gil quickly found himself crying) he got up, returned the beads to his pocket, and headed back up to the room. 

And that’s where he stayed. The room was mostly silent, besides the bustle of the stream of nurses coming in every ten minutes or so to run another test on Malcolm, or the occasional words from Dani, who would every now and then launch into some speal about work or sports or a tv show she saw, as if she talked to Malcolm like the two of them were just grabbing drinks after work, he would somehow register the words and reply. Jessica still hadn’t spoken to Gil about their fight that morning, which was still front and center in his mind. Ainsley, who clearly couldn’t handle sitting around with nothing to do, had brought out her laptop, saying she needed to answer work emails, but Gil could see her screen from where he was sitting; he knew she was flipping through a digital photo album of her and Malcolm growing up, her heart growing more heavy with each click of the mouse. 

Eventually, Dani broke the silence that had been stretching on for the past hour. “It’s getting late...I should go. God, I didn’t even tell work where I was going-”

“You’re fine, Dani. Don’t worry about it,” Gil replied without hesitation. He didn’t care what kind of lecture he got from his boss for letting a detective leave the precinct in the middle of the day when they had just made an arrest for a high profile case. “Thank you for...driving me here. And for everything. For calling the ambulance. You saved Malcolm’s life.”

Dani shook her head, but didn’t argue with the lieutenant. She turned back to Malcolm and gave his shoulder a final squeeze. “Hang in there, Bright. I promise to stop by again soon.” She looked up at Jessica, who was still bent over her son. “Thank you for letting me stay, Mrs. Whitly.”

“Thank you for being here,” Jessica mumbled, surprising everyone. She hadn’t spoken in hours, not even when the nurses tried to ask her questions about Malcolm. Dani looked back to Gil, unsure of how to respond. “I know you care about my son. And I know he appreciates it.”

Dani smiled, although Jessica still wasn’t looking up to see it. “Call me if any of you guys need anything.” She walked over to Gil and gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “I’ll let JT and the rest of the team know what’s going on. Don’t feel rushed to go back to work.”

“I won’t. Thank you, Powell. Feel free to come by anytime. It’s good to have you here.” She nodded and gave a quick wave to Ainsley, who had looked up from her laptop momentarily. Finally, Dani looked back over at Malcolm, trying not to sink back into despair as she saw all the machines, all the tubes and wires, all the things that were just barely keeping Malcolm alive because he couldn’t himself. And with a deep breath, she walked out the door. 

Leaving the three of them to go back to silence, waiting for nothing and everything to happen. 

\---------------------------------------

Jessica fell asleep first. She didn’t even move from the chair by Malcolm’s bedside, she just slumped forward until her head was resting on the mattress. It looked terribly uncomfortable, but neither Gil nor Ainsley wanted to disturb her. She must have been exhausted, considering even the nurses coming and going and the noise of the machines didn’t even cause her to shift in her sleep.

Ainsley finally made a move for one of the lounger chairs around midnight. Before then she had been talking quietly to one of the nurses, who promised that Doctor Singh would be in in the morning to update them on Malcolm’s condition. She had politely nodded, although Gil could tell she was disappointed that there wasn’t any new information to share. When she sat down and pulled out a blanket from her backpack, Gil figured she was going to go to sleep, but she just kept staring at Malcolm. 

“Do you honestly think he’s going to be okay?”  
Gil sighed, really not in the mood for this conversation, but knowing he owed it to Ainsley for being the reason her brother was hurt in the first place. “I don’t know, Ainsley. I know Malcolm’s strong. He’s survived so much already, physically and mentally, but...I’m scared too.”

Ainsley brought her knees up to her chest and propped her head up on them. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep. It feels like if I close my eyes for even a second, he’s going to flatline again...It was so terrifying to see. I’ve never felt as scared as I did when his heart just...stopped…”

Gil’s chest tightened. He wished he had been there. He should have been there. “We just have to keep taking it minute by minute. It’s out of our hands now.”

Ainsley nodded and curled into the blanket even more. “Thank you for coming back, Gil...Malcolm would want you to be here. I’m sorry about-”

“Don’t apologize, Ainsley. Your mother is going through a lot.”

“I know, but you’re already blaming yourself so much…”

“And that’s my guilt to deal with,” Gil replied, shifting in his own chair. It was impossible to get comfortable in the loungers. “It doesn’t matter now. All that matters is Malcolm.”

Ainsley didn’t reply, but Gil could tell she agreed. The young woman leaned back and closed her eyes, tears still falling out of them and streaking down her cheek. 

Soon after, Gil could hear Ainsley’s rhythmic breathing beside him. She had fallen asleep.

But he stayed up the rest of the night, watching Malcolm’s vital signs monitor, the glow from the line representing his heartbeat acting as one of the only sources of light in the dark room. 

\---------------------------------------

Malcolm made it through the night. 

It wasn’t a huge success, they still had a good twelve hours on the twenty four hour clock they were all silently counting down, but it still felt like some kind of progress. 

Doctor Singh came in early in the morning to do a full physical examination. They all left the room for it, none of them wanting to have to see the state Malcolm’s abdomen was currently in. 

While in the hallway, Gil took a call from Dani. She couldn’t come in today; she and JT were too busy with the Bishop case. She gave him messages of support from JT, Edrisa (who had been extremely distraught to hear the news), and the other cops in major crimes. 

And then it was just more waiting.

They repeated the same routine they had the day before; Jessica stayed glued to Malcolm’s side, Ainsley made food runs, and Gil did his best to contain his emotions. He went back to sitting by Malcolm’s side, Ainsley joining him whenever she was in the room. They talked about unimportant things, Jessica even adding in her own thoughts on a few occasions. There was still lingering tension from the argument they had had the day before, which Gil knew would eventually surface again, but for now it was left alone. 

Doctor Singh made frequent rounds, often times accompanied by other doctors who were also on Malcolm’s surgical team. She told them that most of Malcolm’s vitals were still out of a normal range, but were becoming less erratic. She seemed optimistic, which Gil leaned in to as much as he could. Doctor Singh also informed them that, barring another crash, Malcolm would most likely be having the follow up surgery sometime tomorrow, depending on when his vitals finally evened out. 

“His body temperature is already within normal range, which is good. It means we were able to prevent hypothermia, which is always a concern with traumas like Malcolm’s,” she explained, scrolling through the iPad that was always in her hands. Behind her was a nurse and two specialists that Gil had already forgotten the names and jobs of. “The next surgery will be to repair his actual internal injuries and attempt to close his abdomen. We don’t have to go into detail now since we’re still in the early stages of preparation, but I wanted to give you all time to process the next steps.”

Gil almost laughed. As if there was any way to process what was happening. Process the fact that Malcolm was so hurt, one operation wasn’t even enough to fix him. Processing how there was so much life threatening damage, the doctor tacked on a comment about Malcolm possibly never regaining complete function of his right arm due to nerve damage as if it was an afterthought. Process all of this still just being “if’s”; “if” Malcolm doesn’t flatline again, “if” his vitals even out, “if” he’s stable enough. 

“If” he makes it through all this, he’ll get the chance to be taken down to the OR again and “if” he’s lucky and doesn’t just die on table, and “if” they gave him enough antibiotics soon enough and he doesn’t develop a deadly infection, and “if” he doesn’t face one of the million other possible complications, then Malcolm will wake up. Malcolm will live.

Gil couldn’t deal with that kind of uncertainty. But he had too.

He and Ainsley thanked the doctor, and she promised to keep them informed on Malcolm’s vitals. Neither of them knew what any of the numbers or words mean, but at least it made them feel like something was actually being done for him. Like they weren’t just sitting back and letting him die. 

Like Malcolm still had a chance. 

\---------------------------------------

Morning quickly faded into afternoon. The shift at the hospital changed, new nurses came in and introduced themselves. Gil always smiled politely at them, before going right back to looking at Malcolm. 

Around noon, Ainsley took a call in the hallway and came back physically shaken. Gil sat up straighter and asked what was wrong.

“That was my producer,” she mumbled, phone still in hand. “They figured out the identity of the “unknown NYPD employee” attacked last night. And they’re running with the story.”

“They can’t…” Jessica started, looking over to her daughter. “Have the police even made a statement?”

“They released the name of the man they had in custody for the attack a few hours ago,” Gil confirmed. It was one of the first things Dani had told him. “They didn’t name the victims, but it’s only a matter of time before Malcolm’s name is officially released.” Gil wished he could stop it, but with a case as well known as Bishop’s knife attacks, the public was clamoring for information. From his own experience, Gil guessed there would be a statement within the next three hours. Dani would text him when it actually happened. 

“I told them not to run it, but they said they were just doing me a personal courtesy. I guess I should be grateful they didn’t ask for an on the record comment,” Ainsley said, bitterly.

Jessica looked like she wanted to protest, but Gil cut her off. Ainsely didn’t need to feel like this was her fault. “It’s not worth fighting it. People will know what happened soon enough anyway. Your station reporting his name a couple hours early won’t change anything.”

Ainsley shifted, before nodding and putting the phone back in her pocket. “You know,” she said, no hint of emotion in her voice. She spoke like she was just stating a simple fact. Like she was saying “the sky is blue.” “Once it hits the news, dad is going to know.”

\---------------------------------------

Ainsley brought dinner back to the room at five. Chinese food. The three of them ate in silence. 

Gil had been right; less than two hours after Ainsley first got the call from her producer, the NYPD named Malcolm Bright and Kenneth Walters (the homeless man Bishop had gone after after Malcolm) as the two latest victims in the Manhattan stabbing attacks. The story somehow had a positive spin; with both victims surviving, Kenneth with only minor defensive wounds, and Malcolm being “treated at a local hospital”, as well as the perpetrator being in custody. 

Ainsley, Gil, and Jessica found it hard to see any bright side to the situation. 

Especially after Ainsley received a call from an unknown number she immediately recognized as Claremont. 

She blocked it, and told her mother and Gil to do the same.  
\---------------------------------------

Gil had set an alarm on his phone to see when twenty-four hours were up. He knew it was stupid. The doctor hadn’t meant a literal twenty-four hours. It wasn’t like once 6:04 pm turned into 6:05 pm, Malcolm would suddenly wake up and be fine. 

But still, hearing the beeping of his clock mixing with the beeping of Malcolm’s heart on the monitor filled Gil with the first experience of relief he had felt in nearly two days. 

Malcolm was still fighting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Prodigal Son tumblr is @ malclombright if you want to come yell at me about the new episode.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please hit me up on tumblr @ merryandmalcolmbright (yes that is my holiday url) if you wanna talk about this show because I will Cry.


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